


Opportunity Knocks

by patriciatepes



Series: The Queen of St. Canard [2]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Magical Solution, Missing Person Found, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 11:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17446379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patriciatepes/pseuds/patriciatepes
Summary: Gosalyn asks Negaduck why he hasn't aged since that fateful day when she lost her dad. Negaduck decides to answer not one, but two, long held questions in turn.





	Opportunity Knocks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for hc-bingo, using the square "betrayal." See the end for more notes. I don't own Darkwing Duck or any related characters. That belongs to Disney.

Gosalyn had lost track of the days. The windows had been boarded up and bricked over in Negaduck's room—which offset his throne room atop St. Canard's tallest skyscraper, she recalled. The outside world was becoming like a fairytale to her. She had been in Negaduck's possession for _that_ long. All in all, though, she couldn't complain. She had definitely been in worse situations. But those situations had seemed escapable… so far, this one was not.

She went largely ignored, tied to a chair in the corner off to the left of his bed. She was still in her Quiverwing costume, mask still on. He fed her. He allowed her to bathe, under his supervision, so as to not short circuit the electric grid that Negaduck could activate from a button in his possession that would prevent her from leaving the room. Or, at least, that's what she told herself as she made him put his back to her, as she washed from a big plastic tub full of lukewarm water. Given how their first meeting had ended, she questioned his motives in watching her as she stood, as undressed as she dared. But he never turned, never sneaked a peek at her. This was a relief, given what she knew.

But his words had held true. However long she'd been stuck as his prisoner, he had yet to make another move on her—save for the whole tied-to-a-chair situation. He barely spoke to her. Mostly, he just eyed her warily, as if he was trying to puzzle her out. Mostly, he barked orders at her. Get up. Sit down. Quiet—for the rare times she gave in and tried to engage _him_. She was so used to him talking, just like… but no… she wouldn't think that. She loath to compare the two, despite appearances.

Which was something she had taken to noticing. She had never really given it any thought, during their first little sit-down. But it had been at least eleven years—give or take several months—since she had last sat face-to-face with the Mallard Menace. Eleven years was a long time. Long enough that she had grown several feet, slimmed, and blossomed into womanhood as that stupidly flowery phrase went. But Negaduck? He looked no different from what he had the night he had won against Darkwing. Sure, he was a little more grizzled, but that was really more of a question of personal care rather than natural aging. When he was asleep—which was rare, it felt—she would stare at him, as if trying to figure out her own little puzzle. She had no good answer. So, she decided she would do that next best thing. She would ask.

"Why haven't you aged?"

Was it morning… or evening? She had no idea, as Negaduck's sleeping schedule was sporadic. He had just blinked awake and was now sitting up, stretching and popping his back. He smacked his beak together, eyeing her as if just remembering that she was there. Or perhaps he was wondering if she had _really_ spoken. She voiced her question again.

"Why haven't you aged? You look the same as you did when… back then."

He eyed her, the same way he had for the past… however long. Finally, he smirked and stood.

"Are you trying to tell me something, Gos? Concerned about certain things that men have to concern themselves with when they get a certain age?"

Was he teasing her? Was he teasing her about what she thought he was teasing her about? She could feel a red-hot heat rise to her cheeks and she pursed her beak together. She looked down at the floor—away from him and his stupid, gloating, smirking mug—and snarled.

"I meant exactly what I asked. No implications," she hissed.

"Hmm."

He walked over to the liquor cabinet, pulled out a decanter, filled a tumbler, and downed in all in one big gulp. He immediately began to fill the glass again. Gosalyn marveled at the apparent strength of his liver—given that this was his usual wake-up routine. He turned, holding the newly refilled glass in one hand, and eyed her. She returned the stare, refusing to break it now that she had regained some figurative footing. After several long moments, he downed the glass, tossing it over his shoulder into the wall—where it collided with a _thunk_ and fell to the floor. He rolled his shoulders and exited the room, greeted on the other side of the doors by the cheers of his court of crooks. Once again, Gosalyn was left alone.

At some point, she dozed off, waking only when she felt something touch her ankle. She heard a soft _snap_ just as her eyes opened. She cracked her neck—which did little to ease the soreness—and then found herself staring at a yellow suit. She started, looking up to see Negaduck looming over her, one end of a chain in hand. But… it didn't look like a normal chain. No, this one looked like it had a switch at the end of its length, and Negaduck held it firmly in his hand.

He reached around her, and after feeling a small tug, her bindings fell away. She gazed up at him. He backed away a step, and she stood as quickly as she dared, immediately aware of the small weight on her right ankle.

"What is this?" she asked, barely above a whisper as Negaduck was about an arm's length away.

"We're going on a field trip," Negaduck explained at normal volumes. He gave a gentle tug on the chain he held. " _This_ is so you don't get any bright ideas."

She could pick-lock an ankle restraint. It was easy. Was this her chance? Was this how she was going to escape? She kept her face straight, not an ounce of emotion flickered across it. However, Negaduck seemed to read her mind. He smirked, a little more wickedly than he had when she had last seen him. His thumb slid over a button on the weird controller attached to the chain and he tapped it, lightly.

Gosalyn cried out, pitching forward as electricity and pain shot through her entire body. Around the cuff, her skin felt as if it had touched fire. Negaduck caught her easily, holding her against him.

"No bright ideas, okay, Gos?" he whispered.

She shoved off him and nodded. He grinned. "Walk."

They exited the bedroom, whoops and hollers of various thugs that filled the throne room greeting her. Negaduck ignored them and they moved out into a lobby, stopping in front of an elevator. Negaduck jammed his thumb into the down button. It took only a second before a _ding_ sounded and the doors slid open. He nudged her inside, they both turned to face the closing doors, and he hit the number fifty-five button—exactly the halfway point in the building.

"Relax," Negaduck said as the elevator began its descent. "Play nice, and I won't hurt you."

She swallowed, hard, but now that they were well and truly alone, no worries about anyone barging in or overhearing, she put voice to a thought that had plagued her since he had kissed her.

"How do I know that you won't grow impatient? You're not exactly known for that little virtue. How do I know that, one night, one day, or whatever you won't just….?"

She expected a vague threat. She expected to be ignored. Instead, she felt his free hand grab her arm and whirl her about. He held her, face to face, and stared right into her eyes.

"I meant what I said," he growled. "I won't until you say so. And no one else will lay a hand on you either, if you're worried. You're _mine_."

She blinked, staring at him with wide eyes. She was holding her breath for reasons she couldn't explain. Finally, he released her, and she stepped back, turning around to face the doors once again. They were at their desired floor in the next second, and it occurred to her that she should have peppered him with her usual hero bravado, and her deeply felt declaration of _that_ never happening. She would never go to him willingly. Never. But he was ushering her out of the elevator and down the hall to the right, and the moment was gone. She hated that he probably took that as some sort of victory over her. And she hated that it felt exactly like that to her.

It looked like they were heading toward a pair of double doors—wooden frames, stained black, with fogged glass in the center of each—at the very end of the hall. Before Negaduck's rule, this room had probably been some sort of conference room—not unlike the several she had been in in her most recent years as McDuck's secretary. She wondered, vaguely, if McDuck wondered after her absence. She was sure her friends in the resistance were, but… Whatever the case, she had made a mistake, and she was more than paying for it.

"Open the doors," Negaduck ordered as she approached them—being a few steps ahead of her leash-keeper.

She grimaced, but her overall curiosity kept her from making any snotty remarks. She reached for the two doors' handles, finding the room unlocked, and pushed them open. They entered into a room occupied mostly by a large conference table—which was colored to match the doors—and a group of bustling women. Cauldrons sat on individual, electric burners on the table, and all the occupants of the room moved carefully about the room, searching for ingredients or barking orders to those standing by a long whiteboard on the far right of the room. Witches. Everyone in this room was a witch. She gazed around at all the women, varying in age and appearance, and then found herself doing a double-take when she reached the whiteboard.

"I've brought a visitor," Negaduck called in that direction.

Gosalyn had to fight from staggering back in shock. The woman—her signature red dress and black beehive hairdo distinguishing even from behind—turned. She put her hand to her beak as she gasped, that little tendril of dress attached to her finger raising with her hand. Gosalyn felt frozen in place.

"Go—Quiverwing Quack," Morgana Macawber breathed. "It's you. It's… It's really _you_."

Gosalyn jumped as Negaduck's voice suddenly sounded right by her ear. "You two are old friends, yeah?" he whispered.

Gosalyn pulled her head a fraction of an inch away from the villain, who chuckled and straightened. Her mind raced. What was Morgana doing here? The answer immediately presented to her was that she was a prisoner, like she herself was. But, upon closer inspection, she saw nothing that indicated that status. There was no chain around her ankle, no other obvious form of restraint. Maybe it was mystical? Maybe one of these other witches had rigged something up.

Morgana rushed over to her, wrapping her in a tight hug, which Gosalyn returned on reflex. Though, to be honest, it was good to see her father's old girlfriend still alive. But… Something felt off. Wrong. Gosalyn's stomach churned along with her mind, questioning and supposing… and each time seeing that something wasn't quite right with most of her guesses.

"What are you doing here?" she finally asked, using her best badass superhero voice.

The other witches in the room seemed to ignore the newcomers. Morgana pressed a hand back to her beak.

"Oh… Oh, dear," she murmured. Turning, she glared at Negaduck. "Why are you doing this? What have I done wrong?"

"This isn't for _you_ ," he growled, yanking on Gosalyn's chain so that she moved. He walked them over to a harness latched to a wall—solid iron, securely fastened—and locked her chain onto it. He detached the part with the button—a handy feature; she really hadn't given Megavolt enough credit—and pocketed it as he added, "I'm proving a point. Now… you two ladies chat. Catch up. I'm sure you'll find you have much to talk about. I'll be right outside when you've finished."

He turned back toward the doors, pausing in the threshold. "This should go without saying but… no funny business."

With that, he left, pulling the doors shut. Gosalyn eyed the witches surrounding them, pausing over the list of stuff and the calculations written on the whiteboard before looking back at Morgana.

"What's going on here?" she asked, still using her superhero voice.

"You don't have to do that," Morgana noted.

Gosalyn took another gaze about the room. Off to the left, a couple of the younger looking witches were testing out a potion that seemed to cause a tiny explosion when dropped. A horrible feeling was settling in on her.

"I think I might have to, actually," she muttered. "Morg… what happened?"

Morgana wrapped her arms about herself, sighing. "That's… both a loaded question and a long story."

Gosalyn jerked a thumb toward the closed doors. "I think that's why he brought me down here."

Morgana grimaced. "Down… So, the rumor was true. When I heard that Quiverwing had been captured… oh, Go—Quiverwing… I feared the worst. Has he… has he _hurt_ you?"

"So… you know. No. He hasn't touched me. I mean, he… he _kissed_ me. But, he stopped. He says—"

Gosalyn was whispering, and Morgana held up a hand, shaking her head. "I know. I know what he probably said. He's being honest about that, by the way. He enjoys the… thrill of victory. And, given how he feels about _you_ … well… I would suppose that whatever he's promised you, you are probably the only person in this whole city who can believe him."

"How do you know that? How he… How are you here? What are you not telling me, Morgana?"

The witch put her back to her, and Gosalyn longed to run around and make her face her. But the chain held her tight, and if the shock built into it was anything like the one built into Negaduck's bedroom door… well…

"Morg!" she demanded.

Morgana glanced over her shoulder. "What do you know? What has he told you?"

"About you? Nothing. I know you vanished shortly after Dad d… shortly after Dad. After that, not a trace. I know because I tried to find you… to make sure you were okay. I knew that that's what Dad would have wanted me to do."

"Oh," she said, and there was a distinct waver to her voice. "Oh. That bastard… He wants _me_ to tell you."

She turned, and Gosalyn could see the tears glistening in her eyes. It felt suddenly like she had tried to digest concrete. She pursed her beak and glanced away, blinking away her own tears.

"You betrayed him, didn't you?"

"No!" Morgana all but shouted. She took a breath and tried again, at more normal volumes, waving off the stares of her compatriots—because that's what all these witches were, Gosalyn realized. Her "team," doing whatever Negaduck requested. "No. I didn't betray your father. I loved Dark. But… when he… when he died, I knew what would happen next. You were a kid, and Gizmoduck never stood a chance against the likes of Negaduck. Never. Negaduck gave me a choice. Join him or suffer the consequences."

"So you joined?" Gosalyn bit out. "You weren't exactly a pushover, Morg. You could've stopped him!"

"No. No, I couldn't. I tried. He came prepared. He had gotten ahold of some magicks that nullified mine. He threatened my family. I… I had no choice."

"You should have fought!" Gosalyn screamed, causing several in the room to jump, including Morgana. She stood at the end of her leash, reaching toward the woman who had backed out of her reach. "Do you know? Do you know how many he's killed? Enslaved? Do you know what it's like out there now? He plans on taking over the world. And you're going to help him. Do you know how many will die?"

"I'm doing the best I can, Gos. I… I am trying for nonviolent solutions. Hypnotism. Mind-control… things like that," Morgana argued.

"That's no better! You're… you're a coward. You were too afraid to leave your family and their lives of crime behind until Dad gave you an excuse and now, what? Did you sleep with Negaduck? Throw yourself on his _mercy_ to escape what the rest of us are having to live with every day?"

At this, Morgana's face darkened as she leaned forward, locking eyes with Gosalyn. "No, I haven't. He doesn't want me, remember? Even if I had wanted to… no. I offered my magical services… nothing more. I am trying to save lives the only way I can… from the inside out. The less violent I make his weaponry, the more are spared from the inevitable war. Do you know that he killed my father, Gosalyn?"

She hissed her name, low enough so only the two of them heard it. Gosalyn blinked, and she searched her heart to find its sympathy. When she figured out that that well had long gone dry, she snarled.

"Good. Now you know how it feels."

Morgana reeled back as if slapped. For a long moment, neither woman said anything. Gosalyn rolled the newly gained information from this day over in her mind, feeling sicker with each go around. Finally, a new truth came over her. The inspiration behind this little trip… the question Gosalyn had asked. She gazed at Morgana, flabbergasted.

"You're keeping him young, aren't you? You've got some kind of spell going on him, right?"

Morgana swallowed hard. "A potion, actually. And it's keeping him stuck at the age at which I gave it to him. One of his demands from early on."

"Then this," Gosalyn gestured to the room around her, indicating the world beyond, "is really all your fault.

"I'm doing the best I can in a bad situation. In time, Gosalyn, you'll see how unbeatable he is."

"No one is unbeatable."

"He beat Darkwing."

"Exactly."

With that, Gosalyn stepped back and rapped on the wall closest to the door. Both doors opened and Negaduck reentered. He grinned at her grimace and at Morgana's tears.

"Did that answer your question, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Get. Me. Out of. Here," she snarled.

"Gladly."

He reattached the button and removed her chain from the wall. Morgana shook her head.

"Bastard," she snapped at him.

He shrugged. "Probably."

He led Gosalyn from the room. The ride back up to his room was silent, and Gosalyn didn't even fight the thugs he summoned to have her tied back to her chair. When they were done, the room emptied—save for her, of course—and when Gosalyn was sure she was alone, she let the tears flow.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't done end notes in a while. Well, this is the second in my little series of one-shots. I honestly don't know when I'll do the third, but I'll try to keep them coming as soon as possible. I have some other things I need to accomplish first. But, while you're waiting, why not review and tell me what questions you have that you'd like to see answered about this new world? I have some ideas about some characters and vaguely about what I want to have happen, but I don't know exactly the little bits and pieces. So… toss me a prompt or two, and I'll give proper credit if I choose to answer it. Thanks so much!


End file.
